Star Wars: X-Wing: Isard's Revenge by Michael A. Stackpole

Author:Michael A. Stackpole [Stackpole, Michael A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Action & Adventure, Space Opera, Fiction, Science Fiction, Adventure, General
ISBN: 9780307796523
Google: ZyDo2p_uFt8C
Publisher: Random House Digital, Inc.
Published: 2011-06-28T07:56:37+00:00

The Quarren's tentacles parted enough to display two needle-sharp fangs.

"Yes, that aspect was not lost upon me." Nrin stood, and then offered Corran his hand and pulled him to his feet. "In the old Rogue Squadron we'd often discuss these runs over a mug of lum. Is that behavior still suitable?" Corran stretched. "Drinking? Rogues?" Nrin blinked. "Have things changed that much?" Gavin laughed. "He meant to ask 'Drinking lum?' Nope. More lomin-ale these days." He climbed to his feet and gave Asyr a hand up. "Lead the way, Major, and you'll see that some Rogue traditions live on very strong."

Wedge glanced through the numbers hovering above the holoprojector pad.

"I don't know, Tycho. I don't like the losses we took in that last run.

Five pilots lost."

Tycho, who wore his black flight suit unzipped to his navel, scratched at his throat. "They jumped us with thirty-six fighters and we blasted twenty-five of them apart. Nice kill ratio, and Nrin's snoopscoot got away with its data intact. I don't like the results of the exercise, but the performance wasn't bad."

Wedge sat back and tapped a stylus against his right cheekbone. "You're right, we performed better than a computer projection would have had us doing; which means we're capable of performing the mission within acceptable parameters for a worst-case scenario."

"'Within acceptable parameters for a worst-case scenario'? Feeling a bit feverish there, Wedge?"

"Would it get this mission scrubbed?"

"Probably not." Tycho frowned. "What's with the phrasing?"

Wedge tossed the stylus at his datapad. "Missions are being evaluated on a risk basis to determine if we go or don't go. We're only allowed casualties within acceptable limits lest folks in the New Republic think too much blood is being shed for too little gain."

Tycho's jaw dropped open, and then he snapped it shut again. "Urn, for us pilots, the acceptable level of blood being shed is zero, right?

Especially if it's our blood."

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